


Well-Behaved Women

by DoreyG



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Family, Fluff, Kissing, Long-Term Relationship(s), POV Outsider, Treat, human/non-human - Freeform, implied poly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13532079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: The only possible problem is that Lwaxana Troi, representing Betazed, is drifting across the room at high speed and with a glint of focus in her eyes - but her attention is entirely fixed on a smiling woman with pink hair and a silk dress, so even that threat level seems relatively low.





	Well-Behaved Women

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis1000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/gifts).



"Amilyn!"

"Oh," Deanna whispers by his side, and squeezes her eyes shut in horror, "no."

He looks up from his glass of synthehol. Glances quickly around the room, realizes just as quickly that there's no actual threat and directs a frown of bafflement to Deanna at his side, "what?"

The reception, a party given to welcome a deputation from slightly deeper into the Beta quadrant, still seems to be perfectly normal. The ambassadors from all prominent worlds look content, edging right up to downright happy in some cases. The only possible problem is that Lwaxana Troi, representing Betazed, is drifting across the room at high speed and with a glint of focus in her eyes - but her attention is entirely fixed on a smiling woman with pink hair and a silk dress, so even that threat level seems relatively low.

"What?" He repeats, when Deanna only keeps her eyes shut and lifts a hand to massage her forehead, "Troi, are you alright?"

"Can we leave?" Deanna replies, finally opening her eyes seemingly only for the purpose of staring at him beseechingly, "right now? Can we say that I have a terrible headache that could seriously harm me, and that you need to supervise my recovery in a quiet spot far away from here?"

He stares at her for a long moment, not getting any less baffled.

In the corner of his eye the pink haired woman - Amilyn? Surely not Amilyn Holdo, the lead ambassador from the Beta quadrant deputation? - is extending her hands gracefully in Lwaxana's direction, beaming a smile that looks like it doesn't sit often on her face, "Lwaxana."

"I can leave on my own, of course," Deanna says, reaches out to steal his glass from him and takes the deepest gulp of synthehol that he's ever seen her take, "but I care about you, Will, and I feel that you deserve to be spared this as much as I do."

"Spared what?" He asks, still mystified, "I've got to say, this is a rather inconvenient time to develop an allergy to galactic politics."

Deanna sends him a glare, gives another gulp of synthehol and passes his empty glass back to him, "believe me, Will, galactic politics is not what I've developed an allergy towards."

"It's been so long," Amilyn - he's pretty sure that it is Holdo, actually - is saying in the background. He's not focusing on her much, most of his confused and faintly annoyed attention is fixed on Deanna, but he can't help but hear her voice over the crowd, "about three years, by my reckoning. How have you been?"

"You're being very confusing at the moment," he grumbles, shutting Holdo's voice out with some effort, "we were sent here as official representatives of Starfleet and the Enterprise. Picard himself entrusted us with this duty-"

"Because he heard that my mother was coming," Deanna hisses, in a way that is... Entirely truthful and justified, actually.

"-And I intend to complete it," he finishes anyway, tries to look as dignified and firm as he can while holding an empty glass and keeping half an eye on Lwaxana Troi approaching vice-admiral Holdo across the room, "at the very least, I will need a damned good reason to fake a headache and flee at the first opportunity."

"Oh, fine. Fine. Absolutely fine," Lwaxana Troi coos, coming to a halt just in front of Holdo… And then suddenly spreads her arms wide and starts yelling at the top of her lungs, "apart from my deep anguish at being parted from you, of course! Oh, my Amilyn, I have missed you so much."

"You're about to get one," Deanna says, wearing a resigned smirk, and steals another glass of synthehol from a passing waiter.

Usually, in his experience with Lwaxana Troi, this would be the point where the object of her affections started backing away and mumbling horrified excuses. Holdo, to his horrified fascination, doesn't. She stares for a second, smirks for another and then spreads her arms wide and starts talking at exactly the same volume, "my dear Lwaxana, I have missed you just as much! The nights have been so long without you, the stars so cold!"

"And the communications so infrequent." Lwaxana sighs dramatically, but with a glint of unholy delight that he can see even from across the room, "oh, cruel fate. To make us feel the way we do about each other, and then put us beyond the range of any communicators."

"A harsh blow," Holdo says, passionately shaking her pink hair back.

"A bitter pill!"

"A tragedy on a galactic level!"

"But a tragedy that teaches us something," Lwaxana says, with breathless intensity, and reaches out to grasp Holdo's hands tightly between her own, "something important, about the transitory nature of life and the importance of grasping the opportunities that are offered to us."

"The brief moments in time," Holdo agrees, holding onto Lwaxana's hands with - if possible - just as much force, "where we can be together, in one place with our hearts wide open and fully decided, and embrace our true selves once more."

"Oh, my Amilyn!" Lwaxana trills, and he honestly thinks that he's never seen her looking happier than in that moment, "how I have missed the way that you, and only you, can see right into the depths of my soul!"

"Oh, Lwaxana," Holdo purrs in return, and while he's never actually met her face to face the unholy delight radiating from her is something entirely impossible to miss, "I was just thinking exactly the same thing, in exactly the same words. How in sync we are, how perfect for each other on every level."

"Kiss me, Amilyn!" Lwaxana orders, and drags her closer with a firm yank that would send any lesser mortal tumbling.

Holdo only smiles, and says something a lot quieter. Something, that with his limited experience with lip-reading, looks almost like 'I really did miss you, you know'. But then she's following Lwaxana's instructions, with great enthusiasm, and he finds himself respectfully averting his eyes on instinct.

"I told you so," Deanna says, almost smugly, and finishes off her second glass, "they've been doing that for about fifteen years, ever since they first met. They seem to take pleasure in scandalizing every gathering they come across."

He could say many things, in response to that. As such, it's a bit of a surprise when what actually comes out of his mouth is, "I don't think that I've ever seen your mother so happy."

"Neither have I," Deanna says, and smiles a surprisingly fond smile, "my mother sympathizes with vice-admiral Holdo's viewpoint very strongly, thinks that it's shameful that the Federation doesn't do more to help her with the war in her sector and does everything she can to make them uncomfortable on the topic. But beyond that... They genuinely have a bond, they fit together in a way that I haven't seen since my father died."

He nods slowly, taking this information in. Starts, very slowly, to see Lwaxana Troi and her strange life in a slightly different way.

"...That doesn't mean that I want to _see_ them fitting together, though," Deanna says, as a low giggle echoes from across the room, and firmly reaches out to take his arm, "I take it that you are now extremely concerned about my debilitating headache, and want to get me to a quieter place as quickly as possible?"

"At warp 8, my dear Deanna," he says, laughing with relief, and heads towards the doors as fast as he can, "warp 9, if we have to."


End file.
